


A Lesson In Romantics

by sweetcherrypop



Category: Guns N' Roses
Genre: M/M, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Timers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-06 17:23:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 16,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17349422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetcherrypop/pseuds/sweetcherrypop
Summary: Some jackass spills Axl's drink, and it's really all downhill from there.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> ENJOY :v
> 
> This is also on Rockfic, my username on there is stonetempleofthedog.

It started out as a usual LA Friday night, dragging himself to the local bar to get smashed. Anything to get out of his crappy apartment for a while, Axl had figured earlier in the evening.

It was going perfectly fine until some _asshole_ clumsily passed by and knocked over his whole bottle of Jack Daniels. Fucking perfect.

“What the FUCK!” he roared at the stranger, spinning on his heel. 

“Ssss….sorry…” the man slurred, looking unrepentant and clearly much drunker than Axl. “Uhhhhhhh…” 

Axl saw red. “Fucking thank you!” He leaped at the man, raining blows upon him with such force that he had to grasp at the bar counter to stay upright. “A quarter of my fucking paycheck right there-” A punch to his nose that produced a sickening crunching noise-

He tried to straighten up, assess the situation, and make a move to fight back or defend himself, but Axl was having none of it, taking advantage of his slowed reflexes to intensify his attack. 

“Fuck you!” -savagely pinning his wrist down and slugging him in the stomach- “Fucking alcoholic klutz-” one more punch to the eye. Axl then willed himself to pull away before he caught the attention of the bouncers, thanking the universe that all the other patrons were too preoccupied or drunk to pay them any mind.

The stranger weakly attempted to draw back before Axl changed his mind and started beating him again, looking much sobered by the sudden onslaught of pain. “I’m sorry!” He said quickly.

Axl gave him the finger.

“I am!” he repeated. “Uh, I’ll pay for another one.”

“Okay.” Axl crossed his arms, raised his eyebrows, sat back, and sneered, now waiting.

The man pulled his scarf that was loosely draped around his neck, carefully swiped the end of it under his nose that was now pouring blood, and turned to get the attention of the bartender. Axl took the opportunity to get a closer look at the new antagonist. He was thin, with long black hair, pale skin that was interrupted by the dark circles under his eyes. He wore his shirt mostly unbuttoned, tucked into tight black jeans.

When he was done, he paused and turned back to face Axl. “Uhh, I’m Izzy…”

“Eat shit, Izzy.” 

Izzy grimaced and nearly lost his balance again as he turned to face the counter, digging in his pockets for money and tossing it down. Axl busied himself twirling one of the many rings on his fingers while watching him. “Thanks, now fuck off, hm?”

“I, I said I was sorry...” he muttered, using his finger to rub at his bloody lip.

“Okay? I don’t know you and I sure don’t fuckin’ want to. Leave me alone.” Axl huffed and turned his back, ready to just polish off his new drink and go home to crash. He only relaxed slightly when he heard the click-clack retreating footsteps behind him. 

_For fuck’s sake,_ he thought. 

About one hour later, drunk enough to have dulled his anger a significant amount, he made his way out of the still-crowded bar, keeping his eyes on the floor to deter anybody from trying to speak to him. He was still marinating in annoyance from his ruined evening, but tried to distract himself coming up with plans for the weekend. Which were next to nothing. Write, play music, and drink more, probably.

It was only later, at home, after he’d washed his hair and removed his eyeliner, pulling off his shirt for the night, that the soulmate clock on his inner wrist caught his eye for the first time that day. He flinched hard.

**0:00.**

Axl didn’t sleep all night. He racked his brain over and over for different people he might that day, that week, anything. Nothing. He’d been hiding out in his apartment, feverishly writing lyrics on piles and piles of napkins, or working them into songs with his best friend Slash. And the rare times he did leave his house, he kept strictly to himself, avoiding contact with any strangers.

Except for that day. Except for the _annoying,_ clumsy fucking dark-haired _son of a bitch_ apparently called Izzy.

Fuck.


	2. Two

Axl stumbled blearily out of bed in the morning, eyes burning from lack of sleep, and began the tired trek to his bathroom to start his day. 

He was so out of it, in fact, that he failed to notice the pounding of his shower running on full blast from behind him until he had finished brushing his teeth. “What the fuck!” he tried to exclaim, except it came out more like “whattafuck,” because of how profoundly exhausted he was. 

The person in his shower clearly didn’t hear Axl’s indignance over the sound of the shower, because he received no response until he started banging on its sliding door with his fists. “Who the fuck are you!? Get out!”

He wasn’t very afraid. He figured a violent criminal or burglar wouldn’t pause whatever corrupt activities they were engaged in to get clean real quick.

“Oh, morning, Axl.”

“Slash, what the fuck!”

“Sorry man, my place is out of hot water. Also, you might wanna get more soap…”

Axl released a long-suffering sigh and simply rested his head against the shower door for a moment to gather his thoughts. _Why is everyone I encounter bent on bringing as much inconvenience into my life as possible?_ Without many more words, he exited the room to make coffee, leaving Slash to his shower.

Sluggishly preparing his coffee and then digging through his cabinet to spike it with Jack, his thoughts wandered again to the absolutely _horrible_ Izzy character who had made a mess of his night, nagging at his mind even after he had gone home. What if that really was his soulmate? What should he do? Axl couldn’t imagine ever voluntarily talking to the guy. Not that he seemed particularly bad, drink incident aside- but then again, there wasn’t much to go off aside from that. _That might be the guy I’m gonna have to deal with for the rest of my life?_

No, he reassured himself internally, surely there was someone else he’d met who was slipping his mind at the present. No reason to get ahead of himself and start worrying.

He retreated to the ratty, stained couch in the center of the room and sipped his coffee from a blue mug of questionable cleanliness.

Not much time had passed when Slash emerged from his bathroom, dripping water onto the floor, one of Axl’s towels round his waist. “Hey-”

Now, Axl was never in the mood, but this morning he was, really, really, really not in the mood. “Man. Get my floor any more gross and I promise you I will dropkick your ass into next week.”

Whatever words Slash may have had died on his lips. “Sorry,” he mumbled and disappeared, deciding not to push his luck on this particular day.

Axl tossed a put-off look behind him and shook his head, swirling the last drops of his coffee around in the mug. _So, Izzy…_

Trying to call up images of the man’s face. He remembered the messy dark hair, a nose ring glinting from one nostril...and a deeply, egregiously bad sense of spatial awareness. He wondered what he was like when he was sober. 

In the meanwhile, his curly-haired best friend had reemerged from the depths of Axl’s house, looking freshened, dressed in rumpled clothes that he guessed he’d brought last night. An acoustic guitar was slung across his shoulder.

“You’re gonna love this new stuff I came up with last night!”

“What, when you were breaking and entering my house?” Axl said in an annoyed tone. “Shut the fuck up and come sit down.” He wondered if he was ready to talk about the mysterious, bothersome, possibly-his-soulmate stranger from the previous night.

“Well?”

“Could you shut the fuck up?” Axl snapped and then calmed immediately. “I was just wondering what you’d do...hypothetically...if you met your soulmate and they fucking sucked.”

Slash’s eyes widened. “You what?! And you don’t like her?” He wasted no time reaching for Axl’s wrist to look at his soulmate clock. Sure enough, the three zeros were still there to taunt him. “Man, what happened?”

He snatched his wrist back, leaned back, and shook his head. “Fuckin’ went to the bar last night and this asshole knocked my drink over, so I totally laid him out, and I get home and, well, I see this,” waving his arm in the air. “Clearly, I’m kinda hoping it’s not him.”

Slash nearly bent double laughing. 

_“What!”_

He was gasping too hard to look up. “Leave it to you to meet your actual life partner and immediately beat him up. Oh my God, dude. Of course.”

This only served to worsen Axl’s mood. “Shut the fuck up! Like I have the money to just go around getting my drinks spilled all over! I mean he got me a new one after but-”

“DUDE!”

Axl was about ready to brawl with Slash too, at this point. “You’re the worst friend ever.”

His friend finally righted himself again. “So? What’re you gonna do? Not go back and apologize like a normal person, I assume.”

“No. I told him to fuck off. No way that guy is my soulmate.”

Slash snickered. “You’re a mess. Go fucking talk to him.”

“I’ll do no such thing! I don’t know what I expected telling you. You’re a shithead.”

“Do it, man.”

“NO! So anyway. Those songs you wanted to show me, huh?”

Slash just shook his head in disappointment.


	3. Three

It had been a couple weeks. Axl staunchly refused to discuss or acknowledge anything concerning his newly found soulmate. He pushed all thoughts of Izzy out of his mind, instead directing his focus towards his music and his voice, screaming and crooning along to his Aerosmith and Black Sabbath records, oftentimes with Slash watching and/or playing along.

“We’re going out tonight,” Slash announced one evening after a particularly intense session.

“Awww, but you didn’t even buy me flowers.” Axl pretended offense while batting his eyelashes.

“Shut the fuck up. We’re going out, we’re going to get smashed, and we’re going to have fun.”

“Ugh, men these days!”

Slash scrunched up his face to hide his laughter. “C’mon, pretty lady. Go primp or whatever.”

Axl went to his bedroom to get ready with little resistance. He lit a cigarette and smoked as he brushed out his shiny red hair, changed the studs in his ears to conspicuous gold hoops, matched it with a copious amount of gold eyeshadow around his green eyes, and finished lacing up his pants and boots.

Slash wolf whistled as Axl came out of his room. Axl rolled his eyes.

Not too long later, the pair climbed out of Slash’s ancient, decrepit, peeling-paint-job pickup and confidently entered the bar. Axl again tried to pull his thoughts away from the incident a couple weeks ago, the one that had followed his thoughts ever since. _What if he’s here?_ He decided he would bail immediately if he happened to spot Izzy. 

So, reassured by his own foolproof plan, he let Slash pull him onto the dance floor, yelling something about “so many hot chicks” that he wasn’t paying quite enough attention to catch. Fine, sure, he figured, a girl would distract him perfectly well.

Soon he had his hands resting on the hips of a short blonde whose name had gone in one of his ears and directly out the other. He swayed with her, barely interested as she tried to get him to open up about what music, movies and food he liked.

When he’d finally had enough, he did his best to infuse his voice with a sultry tone. “Let me get us some drinks.” The girl blushed at him and he rushed off to the bar counter, suppressing an eyeroll. 

Axl returned with a Jack and Coke for himself and some sort of fruity mixed affair for the girl. He played with her hair a little bit to shut her up and all was going well until he playfully tried to French dip her and she, somewhat tipsy, stumbled and fell directly into the person behind her.

The tall, black-haired person behind her.

“Oh, are you alright?” Axl pretended to be a lot more concerned than he really was, keeping his eyes on her and studiously avoiding even glancing at Izzy. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.” He began to pull her away and had almost made his grand escape when-

“Dude?” Recognition flashed in Izzy’s eyes. “Hey.”

“No,” Axl said firmly, dragging the confused but compliant girl behind him until they were very nearly at the door.

Slash appeared. “Ditching already? No way.”

“Fuck off!” Axl hissed. “The fucking guy is here!”

And this was the wrong thing to reveal, because Slash’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Hell yeah! You’re gonna go talk to him.” Just like that, he grabbed his shoulders and heaved him back towards the dancefloor as if his life depended on it.

Axl tried to fight his way out, struggling against him, but Slash used all his strength to keep him in place. “That’s your soulmate. Go get the boy!” he whispered excitedly.

“Worst wingman ever. I don’t like him!”

And speak of the Devil, Axl figured as he caught sight of Izzy making his way towards them. _Well, he’s a lot less drunk this time,_ Axl noted sullenly. He made a show of protectively wrapping his hands around his Jack and Coke when he was sure that Izzy was looking at him. Really he didn’t care about the whole drink thing anymore, he just didn’t want to talk to him.

“I _said_ I was sorry!”

“Why won’t you just fuck off?”

“Because-” and he pulled Axl’s wrist to his in a flash, sticking it out next to his own, where a matching set of zeroes resided. 

And Izzy looked Axl directly in the eye. “Because.”


	4. Four

Axl didn’t know what to do.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” he groaned. Izzy looked hurt. “Not you. Fuck. Why couldn’t it have been that girl?”

He spun around to look for the blonde he had danced with, but he guessed he’d left her alone for too long, because she was already busy sucking face with Slash in a nearby corner. “What the fuck!”

She heard and they both gave him apologetic, guilty looks, but then they turned back to each other so he just pressed his fingertips to his forehead in exasperation. “Oh, my God.” Turning to Izzy, “Isn’t there anyone else you met recently?”

“No, no chance,” he shrugged. “I don’t get out much. Anyway, what’s your name?”

Axl pinched the bridge of his nose. “Axl.”

“Hmm, nice.”

“No, not nice!” he exclaimed. “There’s nothing nice about this situation!”

“Yes there is, you just found your soulmate,” Izzy crossed his arms. 

“Fuck,” Axl said one last time for good measure, and took a long, hard look at him. He looked more or less the same tonight: White button-down, open at the top, jeans that fit closely to his slender legs, a black pageboy cap sitting tilted over his long hair. The red top of a Marlboro box peeked out of his shirt pocket. There were still faint traces of bruises from his previous excursion to the bar. Axl couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. “Why don’t we grab a seat, I’m dead tired.” 

They moved over to the counter to hop up on barstools. Neither of them really felt like consuming more alcohol, so when Izzy asked for fries, Axl followed his lead. They snuck glances at each other as they ate. They were both a little curious about each other, but no one knew what so say or how to break the ice. Then Slash showed up with the girl in tow.

“Heeeeeeeyyy!”

Axl’s fingers returned to the bridge of his nose.

“Don’t look like that, man!” he started, but was momentarily quieted when a sizable fry, launched by Axl, hit him squarely in the face. Blondie snickered next to him.

“Aaaaaaaxlllllll!”

A smug expression overtook his face. It quickly turned to confusion when Blondie took the opportunity to leave Slash’s side, drape herself over his shoulders, and tuck her face into his neck to kiss it.

“See? Soulmate material.” Axl turned to Izzy and pointed at her, but this time it was clear he was just teasing. 

Izzy let out a laugh that was shaded with relief. “Clearly.”

Slash was scandalized. “Chloe!”

Chloe just laughed, beckoned him closer, and leaned further onto Axl. “Never said you couldn’t join in.”

“Isn’t it a little early for a foursome? We’ve hardly met.” Izzy deadpanned.

“Slash here didn’t even bother wining and dining me…” Axl turned to him, laughing loudly, gesturing at his friend. Chloe’s hand slid down his chest. “Hey!” He tried to push her off with an pointed “Isn’t there someone else you should be paying attention to?” but she was having none of it, instead flirtatiously. wrapping a bit of his straight hair around her finger. “Slash told me you sing.”

Slash gaped. Izzy looked on in rapt amusement, eyebrows raising past the center of his forehead.

“I… I mean, yeah, I do.”

She moved her bright pink lips closer to Axl’s ear. “I like singers.”

“Uuhh...he does backing vocals for me sometimes,” Axl replied weakly, searching for a way out of the situation.

Her tongue touched his ear. “ _Lead_ singers.”

Slash finally regained control of his mouth. “Okay, first of all, guitar is way cooler-”

“You guys play music?” Izzy interrupted with interest. “Are you in a band?”

“Sort of,” “Not really, not yet.” It was clear they’d never been asked the question before. “It’s just me and him so far, but we work on songs together, we have a bunch, and we do gigs when we can get ‘em,” Axl clarified. “Actually, we’re playing here next week.”

“Oh! I play guitar too. I’m kinda in a similar situation. I have a bassist and my friend who’s a drummer plays with us sometimes but we have no singer. I try sometimes but…” he trailed off. “Ehh.”

“You any good?” Slash leaned in and wiggled his eyebrows.

“As a person? Debatable.” Izzy snorted. “As a musician, well, I should hope so.”

They all laughed. Even Chloe took a brief break from making Axl uncomfortable to have a fit of giggles.

Soon she switched her focus over to Izzy, hopping into his lap while he was distracted and making herself comfortable.

“If you fall, it’s not my fault,” he warned, shifting back to stop the barstool wobbling from their combined weight.

“Oh, I’ve fallen, all right.” She fluttered her lashes and gingerly licked her lips, minding her lipstick.

Izzy rolled his eyes in false annoyance. Axl threw his head back and cackled riotously. 

Chloe steadied herself with an arm around Izzy’s shoulder, appearing serious suddenly. “Didn’t someone say something about a foursome? You boys can come back to my place if you like.”

All the guys shut up right away.

“Personally, I’m down,” Slash volunteered first.

“Yeah, of course you are. Gross ass.” Axl scoffed, doing a poor job of keeping the mirth from his voice. “Sorry honey, I’ve gotta get going soon anyway. I work the night shift.”

“You’re actually gonna go to work?” Slash raised an eyebrow.

Axl kicked at the ground. “Um, well…”

Meanwhile, a faint blush had risen to Izzy’s cheeks and he shook his head like he was trying to shake it away. “Nooo. Absolutely not. God.”

Chloe looked a little offended at this particular reaction, but she took it well. “Alright then.” She proceeded to produce a Sharpie and folded paper from her bra, probably stashed for this exact purpose, scribble her number three times onto the top of the paper, carefully rip it, and hand a copy to each man. “Just in case. See you boys next week, huh?” She winked and then, after pressing a kiss to each of their cheeks, was gone.

“Jesus!” This time, Axl said what they were all thinking. Or he and Izzy, at least. Slash, predictably enough, snorted in an offended manner and confidently informed them both that they had missed out on an opportunity.

“I… that’s enough. I’m going home. That was totally, one hundred percent, my cue to go.” Axl groaned.

“Well now that I know we’re not gonna get a foursome, fine, whatever.”

He shot Slash a look.

Izzy looked on and struggled to contain his laughter. “I’ll come by to catch your show too, huh? See if you guys are any good,” he teased, echoing Slash’s previous question.

He received two confident smirks back. “We’re _great._ ”


	5. Five

The night of their show, Axl holed up in his room to prep his hair, makeup and clothes a solid hour and a half before he left for the bar. Slash stood in his doorway for “moral support,” as the claim was, but really it was just an excuse to look at and make fun of Axl.

“You’re like a chick getting ready for a hot date,” he snickered loudly as Axl fumbled with the expensive eyeshadow palette he’d pinched from the department store downtown.

Axl busied himself with carefully smudging his eyeliner so as not to snap and wring his friend’s throat.

“Izzy’s the hot date, hm? Trying to impress him?”

“And you? Gonna go out on stage looking like the fucking slob you are?” Axl finally shot back, avoiding acknowledging the mention of Izzy.

“Aw, fuck off. You know I look hot.” Slash punctuated his statement by striking what he probably thought was a sexy pose.

“About as hot as the North Pole in January,” Axl muttered. He was now holding a wide strip of his hair aloft in one hand, with a big can of extra strength hairspray poised in the other.

Slash lapsed into deeply offended silence, which allowed the redhead to, very satisfiedly, continue combing and teasing his hair in peace.

Many outfit changes, switched pairs of shoes, and hastily clasped necklaces and bracelets later, they hopped into Slash’s ancient truck again and sped off.

The bar was quite crowded when they arrived. Axl, not wanting to mingle, greeted the drummer they’d gotten out of a paper ad to play the show and then took off for backstage with haste, while Slash sidled up to the bar to imbibe before they even went onstage. Once backstage, Axl took his time watching the staff set things up. He slowly walked around, tapping the mics absently and eventually settling against one of Slash’s amps to think.

Only a few minutes later, the clicking of high heels on the floor brought him to attention. He spun around. “Who?”

A familiar face with familiar pink-painted lips gazed up at him. “Hey, Axl.”

He stared blankly back at Chloe. “How’d you get back here?”

“Jus’ told the guy over there I knew you.” She tilted her head in the direction of the entrance, where a tall man in dark clothes and a name badge was stationed, and wrinkled her nose. “Where’s Slash?”

“Being a total fucking sleaze, probably,” Axl snickered. “We can go see him if you want, he needs to get his ass over here anyway for soundcheck and to warm up and stuff.”

“Yeah!” She grabbed his hand and pulled him in the direction of the bar. He quietly followed.

When they found Slash, he was already chatting up one of the girls who was there to see them play. His curls bounced in his face as he spoke animatedly about previous gigs he and Axl had played.

Chloe, without hesitation, walked up, hip-checked the girl to the side, and grabbed one of Slash’s hands in hers. His eyes widened. “Chloe!”

“Slash,” she said his name warmly. The girl he’d been talking to shot them a fiery look and started to stalk off, looking slighted. Axl, though not interested, took pity and reached for her hand. “He’s an asshole. You wanna drink anything?”

The girl turned around. Her hair was dyed a bright ocean blue and her skin was a lovely medium brown. She grinned, flashing pretty white teeth. “Sure. You’re Axl, right? Singer?”

“The very same,” he smiled back and they moved a little farther away to separate themselves from Slash and Chloe. Axl rolled his eyes when he noticed that Slash had his hand up the back of Chloe’s top. 

They started talking more. She was very easy to talk to, Axl noticed, and the conversation flowed effortlessly as they shared a cold beer. By the time they were done, he realized he was five minutes late for soundcheck.

“Aw shit!” He jumped up frantically, pausing to scribble on a card and toss it to her. “This’ll get you backstage. See ya,” and then he rushed off to yank his guitarist away from Chloe, who protested, and finally get out to play.

It was then that he stopped in his tracks, realizing who he _hadn’t_ seen. _Hey, where’s Izzy?_

“Man, go get ready,” he pushed Slash away. “I’ll be right back.”

Axl darted back out into the bar, which was nearly packed. He even went so far as to climb up on a table to scan the crowd, but he spotted no sign of the black cap, dark hair, and angular face.

 _Oh whatever, I don’t care anyway,_ he thought to himself, trying his best to again scramble through the crowd to get the show started. 

Up on stage, the band was welcomed with cheers and stomping. Both Chloe and the girl from earlier had made it to the front row, and he focused on them intermittently as he danced and screamed, giving them his best sweet smiles, and the rest of the time he absorbed the energy of the audience, who seemed to be getting really into their music.

It was after they’d taken their bows and taken their leave from the stage to more raucous cheering and Axl had claimed a place to lean against a wall, guzzling water from a bottle, sweat pouring down his shirtless torso, that he heard a voice he’d been subconsciously expecting all evening.

“So you guys are good.”

Axl tried not to let his composure slip. “Told ya so.” He finished the water, squished the bottle in his fist, and let it _whup_ to the floor.

Izzy shook his head and smirked. Axl wasn’t paying quite enough attention to notice when he let his eyes travel up and down his chest and legs. Little rivulets of sweat slid over Axl’s chest and threatened to enter the waistband of his tight black pants. He finally said something mainly just to get his attention. “C’mon, let’s go chill, I guess. Where’d Slash go?”

Axl looked at him. “Best case, to drink more. Worst case, to fuck Chloe in the back room,” he explained, not even really kidding. 

Izzy snorted a laugh. “Surprised he hadn’t already done that.”

“Don’t make me think about it. C’mon, we can probably go cockblock him.”

They set off down the short hallway, Axl even pausing near both storage closets to listen for any moaning noises while Izzy stood back and stifled his giggles in his jacket.

“Damn! Nothing. Unless they’re being really quiet.” They approached the bar, Axl dodging a few people who wanted to meet him after his performance, and caught sight of Slash and Chloe sneaking off, his hand on her ass.

It brought him great pleasure to call Slash’s name loudly in a sing-song voice and watch annoyance cloud over his expression. “Not now!” he said loudly enough so Axl could hear. “Catch up with you later. Ah, I see you found the hot date,” motioning to Izzy by his side.

Chloe turned to Slash, her voice dripping with honey. “No, no. We can go back to you guys’ place, that’s fine.”

Axl fumed. “We don’t even live together, he’s just a fucking… a fucking parasite! And you’re not going to fuck in my house.” He turned to Izzy. “He used all my hot water and my soap,” he said firmly, like that made everything clear.

Izzy was laughing very hard. “No, l-let him come,” he choked out. “It’ll be f-fun. W...we can all go.”

Axl nearly facepalmed. “Fine.” And then, catching sight of the sly expression on Chloe’s face, he felt the need to add, “That does not mean a foursome! I’ll say it again: Nobody is permitted to have sexual intercourse in my home!”

She pouted.

Izzy went into hysterics.

“Okay, and if you two don’t fit in the car, we’re leaving you here.” He gestured at Izzy and Chloe, who managed to look even more affronted than she had previously, and marched out.


	6. Six

On the way home, Izzy leaned his entire upper body over the passenger seat, which Axl was in, for the sole purpose of commandeering the speaker system. Slash groaned as a loud Motley Crue song burst through the truck and Izzy shamelessly turned it up. “Man, you were fuckin’ right about leaving them at the bar.”

“Hey!” Izzy protested.

“Would ya look at this garbage you’re making us listen to?”

“Motley Crue is great!” he argued.

Chloe giggled drunkenly.

“Chloe, isn’t Motley Crue fucking horrible?” Slash looked to her for backup.

Axl mentally weighed the pro-to-con ratio of shoving Slash to the side, hijacking the steering wheel, and mashing all four of them to death on one of the large trees that lined the road. 

Once they’d stumbled into Axl’s dark apartment, complete with Chloe tripping on his doormat and falling to the floor, Slash pulled a small baggie from his pocket and waved it excitedly at the guests. “Let’s get this thing started!”

“Man, what the fuck! We don’t even know if they-” Axl started.

“No, yeah, yeah,” Izzy affirmed. “Me, at least.” Slash motioned him over, already bending down to the glass table to tap some lines out. Axl waited patiently for the two to sniff their coke before he held his hand out for the baggie and made his own lines. He hadn’t done any in a while, which he was harshly reminded of when his nose started burning and dripping like hell. Ugh.

Chloe lounged back on the couch. “I only drink and smoke weed,” she shrugged.

The guys nodded in understanding. Axl wiped his nose and grabbed a bag of chips to toss to her. “Eat.”

“God, thanks, man. The bar food is kinda meh.” She popped the bag with both hands and started munching with a grin.

Axl glanced at Izzy, who’d gone quiet. He was wiping his nose too, but his fingers came away covered in blood.

“Do this a lot?” 

Izzy looked very, very embarrassed. “I guess.”

Axl fumbled in his pocket for some tissues to offer, choosing not to press the issue. When he looked up again, Slash had taken a seat next to Chloe. Her high-heeled feet were on his lap. His hands were placed suspiciously far up on her thigh.

“Fuckers,” Axl joked at them, finally retrieving a partially disintegrated wad of Kleenex to press into Izzy’s clean hand. He felt great. He wanted to take over the world, kill God, and redecorate his house.

“We are gonna make a fucking cake!” Axl declared, standing up and throwing his arms out like he was presenting an invisible prize. 

Chloe, predictably, was the only one who looked like she was going to question him. The guys tumbled into the kitchen and immediately started hunting for things to make a cake with, which was exponentially more difficult than expected.

“Man, do you even fucking own a baking tray?” Slash asked accusingly.

“Uhhh…. Uhh. Umm.”

He chose not to deal with Axl’s apparent inability for coherent thought, instead diving to the tile floor and sticking his whole head inside one of the cabinets.

“I didn’t know your booze stash was this big!” came his muffled voice almost immediately.

“Oh, don’t you fucking dare!” Axl grabbed a wooden spatula from the dish rack, stepped back for momentum, and smacked him hard on the ass.

“OOH!” Slash rolled onto the floor, clutching his ass.

Chloe tossed her now-empty chip bag in the trash near the sink and sat down by him. He stopped.

“Want me to make it better?” She leaned over him, nearly whispering, fiddling with his belt loops.

Axl raised the spatula threateningly.

Chloe stuck her tongue out in his direction and placed her arms around Slash protectively.

“I cannot believe these people,” Axl sighed in mock defeat, putting his makeshift weapon down and turning to Izzy. “Let’s go do something fun.”

“What, like what they’re doing?” Izzy half-joked, jerking his thumb at the blonde and brunette, who were completely ignoring them and making out against the same cabinet Slash had stuck his head in, still sitting down.

The lighthearted expression fell from Axl’s face like a skydiver from a malfunctioning bungee cord. “No!”

Izzy did his best to keep the hurt off his face. “What did you have in mind? Robbing the neighbors blind? Raiding the liquor store, perhaps? Hotwiring that pretty little Audi we saw in someone’s driveway on the way here?”

Axl grinned widely. “Now you’re talking!” They turned to exit the kitchen together. He stopped to call over his shoulder. “By the way, Chloe, if banging Slash doesn’t give you a disease, that floor probably will.”

They flopped down on the couch and almost fell off it laughing when they heard the distinct, hurried rustling of jeans and leather.

“So, do you think time travel is real?” Izzy dared to get into the position Chloe had been in before, kicking off his black ankle boots and laying his socked feet over Axl’s knees.

“Absolutely. All you gotta do is bend and rip the fabric of space-time and boom, right?” Axl tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. “The first thing I’d do is go back and seduce Marilyn Monroe.”

“Like you could.”

“ _Excuse_ me!”

They went back and forth, back and forth, casually discussing all manner of topics. Izzy was just about to pull his last cigarette out of the pack and light it when he started to fall asleep, words trailing off and becoming unintelligible. Axl quieted down when he saw Izzy’s eyes closing, leaning off the couch to grab his jacket and easily throwing it over Izzy’s still form.

And well, he was completely and utterly disinclined to go to his bedroom for fear of what Slash and Chloe may have been up to, so he simply stretched out further and slept right there with him.


	7. Seven

When Axl woke up, Izzy was not there. _Mm, probably went home in the night_ , he thought while stumbling to the coffeemaker and allowing the events of the previous night to drift back to him in a steady stream. And the kitchen was still in disarray, he noted as he looked around.

That didn’t bother him much. He pulled out some things to make breakfast, then went down the hall to wake up Slash and Chloe. Assuming they weren’t already awake and desecrating his room. Again.

“Guys?” he pushed open the door just a crack, ready to bolt if needed. However, he didn’t: Slash was sprawled across his bed, holding the girl with one arm. They were mostly covered by his comforter, but he could see that they were both shirtless. Chloe’s top had been tossed carelessly to the floor next to the nightstand.

She stirred and turned her head to face him. Slash snored away. “Oh, hey. You want me to leave?”

“Naw, not right now,” Axl shook his head. “Have some pancakes first. Actually, let’s eat them all so I don’t have to give Slash any.”

Chloe’s face scrunched up in amusement. “You’re the worst friend ever. Gimme a minute.”

He went to his closet, picked out some comfortable clothes for himself, and headed to change in the bathroom. 

And then he stopped short.

Someone was picking a beautiful, haunting tune on a guitar. In his bathroom. In his bathroom? Slash? _No, couldn’t be, I would have heard him walking down the hall. He’s loud as fucking shit._

He put his questions aside and quietly leaned against the closed door to listen. It really was a gorgeous song, and under his breath he almost involuntarily started humming a melody to go with it. When the person stopped, Axl gently turned the knob and stepped in.

Izzy was sitting on the counter, back to the door, legs propped up on the closed toilet lid. “Oh! Sorry,” he muttered. “I’ll be out.”

“No. Stay. That was fucking awesome. You write it? Or is it a cover of something?”

“It’s mine.”

“It’s _excellent._ ”

Izzy smiled shyly at the compliment. Axl just wiggled his eyebrows and started pulling off the rumpled clothes he was wearing, tossing them to the floor. Izzy swung himself around to watch, dangling his feet off the counter instead, and smirked. “Not bad for a soulmate.” He made his voice sound as sleazy as possible while pointedly looking Axl up and down.

Axl didn’t verbally reply to the comment, but covered his bare chest in mock embarrassment before continuing to strip. Izzy wolf-whistled and brushed his hands at him in a ‘make it rain’ gesture while snickering. This was only partly to keep Axl’s attention off the fact he was, in fact, actually checking him out.

He finished changing and did a poor imitation of a curtsy in Izzy’s direction, blowing kisses at him. He gathered the discarded outfit from the floor. “Actually, I made pancakes. Come eat. And bring your guitar, the couch is a better playing spot than in here.”

They stepped out together at the exact same moment that Chloe came down the hall, Slash following behind.

“Finally, you fuckers.”

“Oh, fuck off, Early Bird McGee,” Slash grumbled back at him. “Be there in five, I gotta brush and stuff. Hey, what’s Izzy doing with my guitar?”

“Sorry. I just had an idea I wanted to get down.”

“Hurt my baby and I’ll hurt your face,” Slash gave him a look before shutting himself in the bathroom.

“You know, between the two of you, my face has had enough!” Izzy called after him indignantly.

Axl fought back a grimace at the reminder of what he had done. He chose to play it off, since Izzy didn’t actually seem angry, and made a face. “Don’t listen to him. Besides, I wanna hear more of your shit. Food first, though.”

Axl neatly cut up his pancakes before adding a square of butter, drizzling a reasonable amount of syrup over them, and using just a pinch of powdered sugar. Izzy slathered his in butter, and put the syrup on the side. Chloe practically drowned hers in syrup, used approximately half of the butter in the container, and piled on layers and layers of the sugar.

“You want some pancakes with that?” Axl joked.

“Dude, they should make it illegal for you, specifically, to eat pancakes,” Izzy declared. 

Chloe found the whole thing incredibly amusing, enjoying her saccharine breakfast with more laughs than words until a freshened-looking Slash took a seat next to her, last plate in hand. He’d topped his pancakes similar to hers, and even made it worse by indulgently licking a wide stripe of powdered sugar off of one before stuffing it into his mouth whole.

Axl and Izzy shared a profoundly offended look.

Really, in another part of his mind, Axl was trying to ignore the new, strange yet comfortable pull he felt towards Izzy. He didn’t at all want to deal with the whole soulmate thing yet, even if Izzy was very sweet and their senses of humor seemed to fit together wonderfully and maybe the way he wore his heeled boots everywhere and his almost entirely unbuttoned shirts and his smooth, low voice made Axl feel something--

They split off again after they were all done. Chloe had wanted to see Slash’s own apartment, and they took off with promises (threats?) to be back soon. Axl grabbed two cold vanilla cream sodas out of his fridge, headed to the sofa with Izzy, and handed him one. He popped open his own.

“Play the thing from earlier,” he commanded. “I think I have something to go with it. If that’s okay with you.”

The shy smile came back in full force. Izzy carefully picked up Slash’s guitar from where it leaned against the side table and pulled a pick out of his pocket.

Axl settled in and closed his eyes to listen to his song. It was only a second or two before he started humming the tune from earlier, and it went so perfectly with the music that Izzy couldn’t help but look up in surprise.

“Now that’s awesome. Have you got words?”

“Not yet. Want me to write some? Gimme, like, a couple days.”

Izzy shot him a grin and busied himself with shifting the guitar away. Then he laid directly in Axl’s lap.

Axl looked down at him and frowned, like he was considering telling him to fuck off, but then he shrugged and cautiously, almost nervously, ran his fingers through Izzy’s hair a few times. 

He curled closer in response.

“Wanna jam together when Slash comes back? You’re really good. We totally click.” Axl murmured.

“Yes.” Izzy nudged him, urging him to lie down in between talking. “You said you guys don’t have a regular drummer or anything, right? I could call my friends I told you about.”

Axl obliged. “Sure. Hope they’re as good as you,” he teased. They were now facing each other. Axl’s hand had migrated to the side of Izzy’s neck. Just for a moment, he looked into the hazel eyes now mere inches from his face. 

Then looked away quickly, because he still wasn’t sure how thrilled he was about this _thing_ , and even if it had to happen eventually, it didn’t have to happen now, did it? He’d always figured that when he met his soulmate, it would be a few years later when he had his life figured out, had maybe gotten his band off the ground. But now, Izzy was here, and he had a smattering of very faint freckles across his nose and several necklaces that clinked when he moved and he liked to eat his pancakes with a lot of butter, and Axl was completely caught off guard.

So naturally, he was startled when Izzy pressed his face into his neck and laid an arm over him in a sort of cozy hug. “Mm?”

“Nothing,” came the very quiet reply.


	8. Eight

The two of them stayed like that, quiet, content, absorbing each others’ presence, until the front door slammed open. Izzy nearly toppled to the floor in surprise.

Slash spotted them right away. “Lovebirds!” he hollered, prompting Axl to move further from Izzy and closer to the other end of the couch. He had another of his guitars slung over his shoulder. Chloe was nowhere to be seen.

“Oh no, don’t stop on my account,” he told Axl, but the moment had already been ruined. Axl looked embarrassed and annoyed.

“Where’s Chloe?” he turned and snapped, more out of desire to take the attention off his and Izzy’s situation than actual curiosity of her whereabouts.

“She liked my place, for some reason. I figured we could jam for a couple hours before I get her dinner and go back.”

“Ooh, you getting food for a girl instead of the other way round? You’ve got it bad,” Axl snorted. “Sure she isn’t your soulmate?”

Slash held out his wrist, displaying the numbers that still remained with a surprising amount of unconcealed disappointment. “That’s not stopping me, though.”

“Good. Hey, what if Izzy’s musician friends came over to practice with us later?”

“Oh, thank fuck. Get ‘em over here. We could use a real band.”

Izzy looked pleased. “I’ll call them right now. The fuckers never leave their house.”

Axl directed him to the phone and flopped upside down on the couch, his back on the seat and legs in the air. Blood rushed to his face. He wished Slash hadn’t come back so soon, he was enjoying the time with Izzy, but soon he’d get to make music with him. So all was more-or-less well. _I wonder if he’d wanna join us for real?_

He was still laying in that strange position when Izzy reentered the room, looking ecstatic. “They’ll be right over. Why are you upside down?”

“The Devil made me do it.” Axl wiggled himself back up.

Izzy put his face on Axl’s thigh. “You do seem like the possessed type.”

They had just finished setting out sodas and leftover pizza when the door banged open and two blonds barged in, arms full of equipment. The first one was so tall he had to not only duck, but slide in sideways because of all the things he was carrying. The second one had very, very fluffy hair. and a big grin despite the way he was struggling under the weight of his drum gear. Izzy hopped up to help them.

“Steven,” he gestured grandly to the fluffy one, “and Duff,” to the tall one.

“Like the beer?”

“Probably.” Duff himself gave a happy smile and got to the task of setting up, plugging in and tuning his bass, speaking to them all as he did so. “So what’re we doing? Iz didn’t tell us much.”

Izzy shot a glance at Axl for him to speak.

Axl grimaced briefly, disliking the expectation. “Right, he had some really great stuff this morning and I wanna work it out into a full song. And then we can go over some of the covers me and Slash play, see what you guys do with ‘em, maybe bring out some originals if we have time after.”

They all looked satisfied. He relaxed and began singing to warm up his voice while everyone finished getting ready.

A perfect energy flowed throughout the space, the chemistry was instant as they got into the first song. Mama Kin by Aerosmith. Axl had to look around him to be sure everyone else was feeling the same thing, the same sparks he was feeling.

It definitely looked like they were. Slash had his head tipped back and his eyes closed, playing perfectly. Duff and Steven looked like they were having the time of their lives. Izzy tapped his foot and energetically bounced in time, hands curled lovingly over his guitar. He radiated pure passion.

Axl was _sure_ that if he’d looked at his own reflection in a mirror at that moment, there would’ve been visible stars in his eyes.

“Was that insanely good or what?” he whispered towards Izzy later. They were taking a break. The other guys were lounging around various parts of the room snacking and talking, while the two of them settled into a corner with cans of Dr. Pepper tucked between their knees.

“Like magic,” he replied softly, digging his nails under the can tab and prying it open.

Axl leaned in and observed the way Izzy’s ears poked through his hair. “Me and Slash are playing at the fucking bar again soon. How fast can you guys learn a handful of songs?”

It was nice to watch his eyes light up and his voice fill with excitement. “Oh! I’ll talk to them.”

“‘Kay.”

The sheer vigor of their playing never flickered or faded at any point during the next two and a half hours, not even when Axl was bent double because he was out of breath and not when Slash forgot how small the room was and backed directly into his amp and fell over and not even when one of Steven’s sticks flew out of his sweaty hand and nailed Izzy in the back of the head.

They were all very content and very tired when they put their various instruments down and returned to the floor to finish all the drinks that were left in Axl’s fridge. Slash dunked his face under the faucet to cool off and got ready to go, in a hurry to get back to Chloe.

“Wait,” Axl handed him a bottle of liquor from his stash before he stepped out to his truck. “So you guys can share. Make it more romantic or whatever.”

Slash gaped.

“And if you drink it all yourself, I’ll hunt you down!” Axl continued in the most cheerful tone of voice he could muster. “Alright, go.”

He did.

Axl returned to where Izzy, Duff and Steven were lazily packing up. He joined in on the conversation, taking the opportunity to ask about Steven and Duff’s musical preferences and what other bands they’d been in, along with learning more about Izzy and what he liked to write, play and listen to.

“See you in a couple days, yeah?” he mumbled to Izzy as he headed towards the door behind Duff and Steven. He didn’t really want him to leave. 

“Yes.” Izzy brought his hands up for a moment, like he was going to give Axl a hug, but looked away awkwardly and returned them to his side. Then he turned away. “Yeah.”


	9. Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me if you like it, I dunno if anyone's reading this shit. This is Izzy's POV so we finally see his thoughts woohoo

Izzy paced around his room. He tried to take a deep breath and look around; he had decorated the space to be as homey and comforting as possible. Posters of his favorite bands papered the walls, overlapping, some stained and tattered. His skateboard leaned against a shelf full of books and comics. Cassettes and a few vinyls littered his desk. His prized possessions, his two guitars, rested on their stands nearby.

It only worked somewhat. He picked up a brush to run through his hair. _I’m not ready! What am I gonna wear? And what if I fuck up on stage or something?_

On the bed next to him lay a small pile of clothes he’d selected as options. A black button-down, a white button-down, a black vest, black jeans, and leather pants.

 _Fine_. He grabbed the jeans and pulled them on. Followed by his shirt, which he tucked in but left unbuttoned as usual. Turning to his dresser with its big mirror on top, he picked up and applied his eyeliner, smudging it heavily. 

Choosing jewelry was much easier. Braided rope bracelets. An assortment of random necklaces. A ring with a large turquoise stone. The biggest, shiniest, most obnoxious pair of silver hoop earrings he owned. 

He looked up into the mirror.

_Will Axl like it?_

He crossed the room to his guitar, trying to shake the thought away, and ran through some scales in an effort to take his mind off his soulmate. His _soulmate._

Naturally, it didn’t work.

His world had been shaken to its core since he’d met Axl. From the minute he’d happened to glance at his wrist while holding an ice pack over his bruised face after he got home from the bar, that first night, to when he’d pressed close to him on the couch and listened to him breathe, the boy had not stopped haunting his thoughts. 

Izzy had had to deal with an intense, cutting feeling of rejection when Axl made it clear he didn’t like him- not enough, at least, not that way- but maybe, hopefully they were getting somewhere now. The feeling diminished into almost nothing when Axl complimented the song he’d played in the bathroom, and touched his hair so gently, and…

The sound of a car horn assailed his ears. Izzy stood up, shoved his boots and hat on, packed the guitar and a handful of picks into its case, and hurried out the door. Duff and Steven had pulled up, excited grins plastered on both their faces.

“IZZY!”

He gave a tentative grin in response.

“Dude, how are you not, like, flipping out right now? This is our first real gig. There’s gonna be _so_ many people. I can’t believe your boyfriend is so famous!” Steven practically vibrated with excitement as he spoke.

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

“Yeah, yet,” Duff joined in. Izzy looked up at him, prepared to deliver a sharp retort, but he was silenced by the sheer horror that paralyzed him when he caught sight of his friend’s clothing.

“What in the _fuck_ are you wearing?”

“What?” Duff asked innocently.

Izzy struggled to find words to describe the disaster in front of him. Duff wore a gaudy, lurid Hawaiian patterned shirt, tied up near the middle so it showed his navel, and a pair of light wash distressed rhinestone-studded denim booty shorts that were held up by glittery lime green suspenders. 

It made him want to disconnect both of his optical nerves.

“Axl’s going to take one look at you and send us all home.”

“This is my best outfit!”

“Duff, please listen to me. I tell you this as your friend: You could have gone out this morning, peeled the skin off of a rabid roadkill raccoon that had rotted in the street for two, maybe three weeks, hand-stitched it into an outfit, and it would still look better than that.”

Duff turned away looking like he was going to start crying on the spot. Izzy considered retracting his harsh statement, but really, it was a perfectly valid statement.

Steven turned around. “Izzy, what’s your damage?”

“Sorry I don’t want him to show up to our first big concert wearing clothes that could easily be found in the clearance section of the local Dollar Tree!”

Izzy found himself on the receiving end of not one, but two of the most aggrieved expressions that existed in the current known universe.

He cut his losses, shut his mouth, and sat back in his seat.

It was only when they groaned to a stop in front of a not-too-unfamiliar apartment building that it hit him what was about to happen, and he froze momentarily before he opened the door. Steven and Duff obliviously hurled themselves out of the car and toward Axl’s door.

Izzy crawled into the passenger seat, flipping down the sun shade and sliding open the miniature mirror to check his appearance one more time. Despite his inner turmoil, he still looked decent: The makeup was still in place, and his hair was slightly mussed, just how he liked it. He took a deep breath and stepped out.

He forced himself not to hesitate before he entered the room. Axl, ever the good host, was placing a bottle of Corona into Steven’s hands when Izzy entered his line of sight. Axl turned around and stopped short, eyes widening. Izzy timidly stepped back a tiny bit, deeply unsure of himself.

“You look good,” Axl muttered, gluing his eyes to the floor.

It was a compliment, so why did he look so uncomfortable? _Why doesn’t he look happy to see me?_ “Thanks.”

He retreated to the kitchen to put his head in his hands, doing his best to tune out the conversation going on a few feet away. Really he was hoping Axl would come check on him, but he didn’t, so Izzy stayed where he was, almost dozing off, until Duff stuck his head in to call him a “fuckin’ sleepyass” and let him know it was time to get to the bar.

Once he was sitting again, he pulled his cap down over his eyes and remained in sullen silence until the guys’ cheering indicated that they had arrived.

Soundcheck and warming up dragged along at a snail’s pace. His bandmates blabbered on and on in happy tones. He snuck glances at once certain redhead all throughout, surreptitiously at first, then openly once it dawned on him that Axl seemed to be purposely avoiding his gaze.

 _Did I do something wrong? Maybe I went a little too far with all the touching,_ Izzy surmised, _or maybe he noticed how I was about to hug him before I left..._

“Earth to Izzy?”

“Roger that,” he said dryly without missing a beat. It was Slash, laying down both of their guitar cases and opening his own.

“Let’s go!” He picked his up and bounced off.

His enthusiasm made Izzy annoyed. He took a breath. It would suck to associate his first major gig with being in such a piss-poor mood.

It was much more comfortable once they were on stage and playing. The energy was back with a fucking force. The new parts they’d written fit perfectly to each other, and the result was an ultimate whirlwind of hard-hitting songs that had the crowd, and also Axl, yelling and screaming in ferocious glee. Izzy felt untouchable.

He had his eyes closed, so if asked, he wouldn’t have been able to pinpoint the exact moment when things started to go off the rails. That said, one moment the show was going as well as it possibly could, and the next moment, Axl had taken hold of the microphone stand and done a strangely majestic flying leap into the audience.

Izzy paused and looked to the guys in question. Steven stared back, his face an exact copy of the bewilderment Izzy’s showed. Slash was talking to Duff in a low voice and after a moment, they both turned around and gestured for him and Steven to keep playing.

He went with it for the first few minutes, improvising a little bit, craning his neck to see exactly what was going on. Axl was engaged in a fight with a visibly enraged ponytailed man who couldn’t’ve been much older than him, hitting and kicking relentlessly. The man did his best to retaliate, delivering a hard sucker punch that was meant to knock Axl onto the floor, but only sent him stumbling off balance. The people around them gave a wide berth, although that didn’t make their curiosity and interest any less obvious. When Izzy looked to the stage floor and back out, the man was frantically pressing a hand to his ribs while shouting obscenities at Axl, who’d taken a step back to cradle his own left arm.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw security making their way around the stage and towards the fight, which showed no sign of de-escalating in spite of the fact that both its participants were at least somewhat incapacitated.

Izzy decided that, y’know what, he really wasn’t into the idea of getting permanently banned from the place, so against his and his bandmates’ better judgment, he leaned down to rest his guitar carefully on the floor before recklessly vaulting over the edge of the stage and squeezing through the crowd. Axl was so wrapped up that he didn’t take notice of the sound of his name, or the gentle touch on his back, but he did spin around and flinch when Izzy started dragging him away.

Never one to let another person think they’d won, Axl took a second to tauntingly grin at his opponent, then tore his wrist from Izzy’s grasp to give two triumphant middle fingers.

Once the show of victory was over, his face turned stony and he stalked behind Izzy, refusing to say a single word, all the way back to where the guys were doing their damnedest to maintain the attention of the audience without the aid of their singer and one guitarist.

 _“Time to diiiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeee!”_ Axl picked up the mic and fucking screeched, and the room came alive with a vengeance.


	10. Ten

Not once, in his sorry, miserable, God-forsaken existence on the planet Earth, had something Axl was looking forward to so much gone so, incredibly, horribly wrong. He rolled over on his back so he couldn’t feel the cold stains his tears made on the pillow. He tried to process.

First, there was Izzy. Axl had nearly lost all ability to speak when the brunette showed up, hazel eyes ringed in gorgeous black, jewelry catching the light, looking for all the world like he’d been sent down from Heaven above. He looked _perfect_. It was terrifying.

That, piled on top of the fact that Axl would be playing a show with him, with guys he really, truly clicked with, less than an hour from then- was just too much. All the hopeful exuberance he’d been riding on was crushed to irreparable pieces with the force of anxiety and fear. He couldn’t confront it. So he made a dedicated effort to steer clear of Izzy for the evening. _Which may not have been the best choice_ , he thought with a slight pang of regret, remembering the way Izzy holed up in his kitchen, the fleeting flashes of sadness that were plain on his face as he got into the car, backstage as he slumped over on his amp. Even his reluctance to join in on the conversation spoke volumes.

Axl pulled the comforter over his head. He hadn’t meant to act so cold towards Izzy, but the fact was, he had no idea how to deal with his attraction to the man. _What am I supposed to do, kiss him?_ Then he threw the comforter off in sheer upset at the realization that he wouldn’t at all mind kissing Izzy. 

Down the hall, the phone rang as if it knew what a terrible morning Axl was having and wished to taunt him. He ignored it. The only person who really called him was Slash, and Axl felt sick at the thought of facing up to him or any of the guys after the disastrous show. Embarrassment flooded him once again.

The offensive ringing of the phone failed to cease. At first, he coped by putting the pillow over his entire head, but after what he estimated was about seven to ten minutes, Axl found himself stomping down the hall and snatching up the receiver like it had done him a personal injustice.

“What the _fuck_ do you _want?_ ” he spat, unable to care less who was on the other end. It could have been his mother for all the fucks he gave.

But predictably enough, a light drawl replied. “Well, if you’d stop moping, that’d be a start.”

Axl self-consciously wiped his eyes and composed his voice as best he could. “I am not moping!”

“You are.”

 _Why did I ever let him get to know me, again?_ “Shut the fuck up and leave me alone, man.”

Slash’s eyebrow raise was practically audible. “We’re not gonna do that. See you later!”

Then, insistent as his calls had been, the phone clicked off. Axl nearly hurled the phone clear across the room. Next he went and locked and bolted the door closed. If Slash had meant what Axl thought, he wasn’t letting it happen. No way he or anybody were going to come and harass him in his own home. No, he was going to go back and lay on his bed alone, perhaps with a beer, and damn everything else.

That was exactly what he was doing, plus halfheartedly kicking his feet in time to the gloomy song on the radio, when the sound of thunderous knocking on his door reached his ears.

“FUCK OFF!” Axl hollered, resolve strengthened. He would not open the fucking door for Slash.

The knocking got louder.

Axl swigged his beer.

It went on.

Axl returned the pillow to his head and burrowed under the comforter.

It stopped.

Axl cautiously sat up.

He couldn’t be assed to haul himself to go and check if the fucker had really gone, so he shrugged to himself and lay back down, tipping more of his drink into his mouth as he did so.

_Thump. Thump._

This time he did begrudgingly remove himself from bed. Maybe it wasn’t Slash and he was finally about to be burgled or, even better, axe-murdered. _Would sure take my mind off things._

Instead, on his living room floor, he found a tangle of black curls and light brown skin and bleach blonde and fair peach skin and... “Guys, what the fuck?”

Chloe peeked up at him, rubbing her nose. “Don’t be mad, he made me do it.”

Axl squeezed his eyes shut. “Slash. Chloe. Get. The. Fuck. Out. Of. My. House.”

Slash winced as he pulled himself into a sitting position before fixing Axl with a defiant look. “No. We’re here to cheer you up. There’s takeout and stuff in the car. Izzy might come later too.”

Chloe meekly moved back to close the window they had dragged themselves in through.

Axl refused to dignify the announcement with a response. He turned on his heel and retreated to his haven, his sanctum sanctorum, his fucking bedroom. 

There he lamented the apparent severe downsides of having friends, the fact that he was inevitably going to have to leave his room and talk to Slash, and Chloe, who’d of course had a front-row seat to Axl losing his shit in front of a bajillion and one goddamn people, and Izzy, and oh _God,_ he really didn’t want to see Izzy ever again. He’d sink into the earth out of shame. Axl flipped over and over in bed, trying to stop thinking, and soon his face became very intimately acquainted with the grimy hardwood flooring.

He stared up at the ceiling, morose, pondering the cobwebs that decorated its corners, until his accursed guitarist poked his head through the door with a disproportionately cheerful grin.

“Axl! Come out before the food goes cold!”

“Shove it up your ass.” Axl couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty about his snippy tone. Slash had known damn well he was in a bad mood and decided to show his happy ass up here anyway, so what obligation did _he_ have to be polite?

“I think you’ll be the one getting it shoved up your ass,” Slash replied smugly, cheerful grin morphing into an absolutely shit-eating one. “Oh, speaking of, I bet Izzy misses you. Fuckin’ ignoring him and all.”

Axl’s eyes flicked from the beer bottle by his side to his friend’s face, but he wasn’t _quite_ that angry yet, so he settled for throwing a lone sneaker that rested by his nightstand. Slash ducked just in time and it sailed out into the hallway. Axl dearly hoped the act would chase him off. No such luck. Half a second later Slash had straightened up, woefully unperturbed. “Be right back!”

Axl was starting to seriously think about taking a page out of his guests’ book and escaping through the window when both of them entered, cradling several boxes in addition to an assortment of drinks, and utensils. He noticed then that Chloe was dressed more casually than he’d ever seen her: She wore a tight striped shirt, a jean skirt, and red Converse. She looked comfortable and beautiful.

“For you!” Everything was set down in front of him. He groaned, feeling most of his irritation dissipate. It really was sweet that they’d come over for him. He adjusted into a more comfortable position, leaned forward, and picked up a box of fried rice. Then he remembered exactly why he hadn’t wanted to see them and his stomach churned.

He put the rice down.

Chloe made herself at home on his bed with a tray of sushi and cup of bubble tea. Slash grabbed a container of what looked like breaded shrimp and settled very close to Axl, leaning on him.

“It’s okay, you know,” Slash chose to get to the point. “Nobody’s mad or freaked out or anything. They all wanna hang out and jam again sometime soon.”

Axl took a moment to remove a pair of chopsticks from the bag and unwrap them. He tapped them back and forth and gritted his teeth. The grain of the wood slid smoothly against his fingers. He didn’t want to start crying with Chloe there. 

“Are you sure?” His voice was strained, weak. _Tap, tap, tap._

“Yes. Yes.” Slash emphasized. The truth and warmth he was trying so hard to put behind his words got through.

Axl picked up his rice.

Slash moved back a tiny bit to look him in the eye. “Dude, you fucking starstruck them. Didn’t you notice everybody loved it?”

No, Axl hadn’t noticed. The rest of the night was lost to mortification and anger and a need to block everything out, to withdraw into himself. He shook his head.

Slash looked down, maybe in understanding, and picked up a piece of shrimp with two fingers. Chloe, who had been considerately silent, suddenly tilted herself sideways to twirl her fingers in Axl’s hair and kiss the top of his head.

Slash playfully batted her hand away. “That’s a taken man!”

She giggled and turned her attention to him, gently touching his coarse curls.

All of them snapped their heads toward the bedroom door as another knock sounded from farther off. This one was timid and polite, unlike earlier. Slash gave Axl an expectant look.

“No.”

“Axl, for the love of God, he wants to see you.”

That was when he came to terms with the fact that literally nothing was going to go correctly on that particular day. He steeled himself and left the room without further opposition.

He interrupted Izzy’s third knock by opening the door. They stared at each other for a second. Izzy’s usual paperboy cap was traded out for a red bandana, his jeans were ripped at the knees and his hands were tucked into the pockets. He looked nervous and opened his mouth to speak, but then he didn’t, because Axl pulled him through the door and slowly slid both arms around his waist and hugged him, unsure at first until Izzy buried his face in Axl’s shirt and pulled in a deep, shuddering breath like all was now right with the world.

A few sweet minutes later, both smiling bashfully, they walked into his room side by side.


	11. Eleven

Excitement bubbled through Axl as he leaned against Izzy’s railing, waiting to be let in. Slash stood behind him, holding Chloe and his guitar case. He’d invited all of them over to practice together- “Bring any unused material you have,” he’d said- and have dinner. Sleeping over was heavily implied, so Axl stuffed some spare clothes into a bag that was now slung over his shoulder.

Duff’s and Izzy’s beaming faces welcomed them through the door. Steven was already banging away at his drums and cheerfully creating a ruckus. The place had an air of clutter, Axl noticed, taking in the walls with so many things tacked up and taped and the mismatched furniture arranged haphazardly around, but it was free of the dust and dirt that Axl’s own apartment possessed. 

“Hope you fired your interior designer,” he offered as they added to the chaos by piling their belongings next to a stray cushion.

“Man, shut up.” Izzy laughed and ran a hand through his black hair. “What’d you bring?”

“Booze, women, I brought it all,” Axl waved imperiously towards the jumble of stuff. He managed to maintain his ultra-serious expression for about a second before snickering loudly at his own joke.

Izzy laughed with him. It made Axl’s heart flutter and burst into a million tiny, glittering pieces. The rush of intense feeling still made him nervous, but not nearly enough to make him want to pull away or leave again.

They all took various seats on Izzy’s low sofa, where he draped his arm around Axl and asked to see some of his lyrics. Slash got his guitar out and positioned it as best he could while in a cramped position wedged between four other people. Before long they’d worked out a comfortable flow; Slash would play one of his ideas or come up with something on the fly and then Axl would jump in with his lyrics, reading from crumpled, ink-stained papers he drew out of his pockets. Chloe would harmonize and do backing vocals under him, her high, inviting voice complimenting his deep and rough one. Steven slapped his knees to the beat. Duff had the foresight to bring a tape recorder, which he ended up setting down next to them. The magic that only existed when they all played together was fully present, taking on a warm, loving energy that connected them to one another like an invisible and otherworldly ribbon.

Three or four nearly-complete songs and many, many snippets were on tape before Axl shifted and suggested giving it a rest. 

“Yeah, my hands are cramped as fuck over here,” Slash agreed, trying not to elbow Chloe in the face. The six expended much effort disentangling themselves from each other before they rose to raid Izzy’s small kitchenette. Duff groaned forcefully as he stretched his tall frame and then immediately smacked his head on the ceiling, which sent him tumbling right back onto the sofa in surprise and pain.

“Bunch of sadists,” he grumbled at Steven and Slash when they openly guffawed.

Five beers and one Pepsi later (Chloe wanted to save her drinking for the evening), they headed to Izzy’s room so they could spread out with more space. His bed was huge with a lacy black canopy over the top. Axl thought the whole thing perfectly suited his personality. “Maybe we should leave you two alone,” Slash whispered suggestively. Axl pinched him.

There they stayed for most of the afternoon, hardly noticing the sun tracing its way across the sky and setting, talking and giggling so uncontrollably at points that several of them fell off the bed at once. Chloe was snuggled up to Slash with her head on his belly. Izzy stayed closer to the edge so he could duck out and get snacks for everyone as they wished. This did not stop Axl from sneakily adjusting his position until he was in Izzy’s lap.

This was all well and good until Duff got bored and started poking around in the closet. Everyone ignored him at first, wildly preoccupied with a lively discussion concerning the drawbacks of society’s possibly-incorrect assumption that Bigfoot was male, but it caught their attention when he bellowed in triumph and brandished a shiny piece of fabric at them.

Axl did a double take. It was a sequined, slinky red dress. Then he turned his face upwards to stare at Izzy, which evidently everybody else was already doing, because he started to turn as red as the garment that Duff was straining to hold aloft due to the fact that he was about to spontaneously combust from laughter.

“It’s not mine! My ex left a lot of her stuff here. I didn’t wanna throw it out.”

“Is she coming back?” Slash asked, glancing at Axl.

Izzy made a face. “Nope, definitely not.”

Duff’s eyebrows threatened to climb all the way off his face. “So that means I can wear it, right?”

Chloe cut off Izzy as he opened his mouth to reply. “No way. Give it here.”

“Come and get it!” Duff made to run off with the dress. 

Izzy dropped his head into his hands and wearily pointed at the closet without looking. “There’s more. In the fucking box.”

Chloe dived off the bed like she was Michael Phelps in the Olympics.

No less than five minutes later, the box had been totally ransacked and Izzy and Axl had been deserted. Less than half of Izzy’s makeup remained on his desk. Titillated snickers, clattering, and rustling sounds could be heard from the bathroom.

Axl was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was in Izzy’s bed. But Izzy smiled like there was nothing out of the ordinary and softly nudged Axl from his lap in order to retrieve a tube of lipstick and a compact mirror for himself, looking positively delighted at the small whining sound the redhead made when he got up, letting him reclaim his place as soon as he sat back down. Axl watched, transfixed, as the glossy strawberry color was applied with grace. He smiled, awed, when captivating hazel eyes met his. He closed his eyes, dreamy, when calloused fingertips tenderly touched his cheekbones. 

He kissed back, reverent, when Izzy kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm prolly gonna go back and rewrite the end of this cause I feel like it was a little disjointed but hope y'all enjoyed :v


	12. Twelve

And then he scrambled back.

“Wait!” Izzy automatically grasped for his hand, but Axl let himself fall against the wall and stay there, unmoving but making it more then clear that he didn’t want Izzy to get near him.

The guys and Chloe traipsed back into the room, beers in hand, grinning widely and glamorously dolled up like fucked up, tipsy princesses. Unsurprisingly, Duff had not relinquished the red dress to Chloe, and it fit his long body perfectly with a set of heeled white sandals. Eyeliner and a thick coat of silver eyeshadow shimmered on his face. Slash strutted and wiggled his hips in a pastel blue crop top and matching form-fitting skirt with fashionably ripped fishnets underneath. Chloe was much taller in strappy purple stilettos paired with a green dress that hugged her figure excellently. Her makeup was all purple, too. Steven hadn’t changed his clothes at all, but he did have a pleased expression and a camera around his neck.

All stopped in their tracks as they took in the scene. They could only take a vague guess as to what had happened, with Axl backed against Izzy’s Ramones poster like a suddenly trapped animal, red lipstick smudged across his mouth, and a remorseful-looking Izzy, matching red on his own lips, frozen in place as he tried to figure out how to proceed.

“Izzy, what the hell did you do?” Slash asked accusingly, protective.

Axl spared them not a glance as he darted from the room. In the safety of the bathroom, with still-open tubes of makeup all over, he reached for the roll of paper towels, turned on the faucet, and furiously scrubbed the lipstick off. When he looked at his reflection, his face was flushed. He stood against the cool, smooth marbled counter, trying his best to gather himself. 

Everyone kept quiet until he returned. They were clearly worried until Axl greeted them, keeping his expression even and his voice strong. “Hey.”

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he nodded for emphasis. He certainly didn’t want to ruin the whole night just because of his rampant trust issues. “Um, why do you all look like Chloe?”

“Didn’t she make us _perfect?_ ” Duff fluttered his lashes and grinned widely. 

“Yes.”

Chloe regarded her handiwork in a very self-satisfied way. Steven took the opportunity to snap another picture.

“Hey, don’t use all my fuckin’ film,” Izzy lazily directed at him, looking like he could not possibly give any less of a fuck about his film. 

They tried to get back into a groove after that, they did, but it was a little too strange that Axl and Izzy were pointedly staying away from each other instead of their usual sweet, shy affection, especially in such close quarters. Neither would talk much, either, probably for fear of saying something wrong on Izzy’s part, and it made their attempts at conversation so pitifully stilted that Duff got restless and threw one of his sandals at Axl’s head simply to get a reaction out of him.

It was greatly alarming to all of them when the redhead didn’t even bother to fly off the handle like he normally would, rather choosing to eye the sandal for a few moments before tossing it back with no force.

Slash gaped at him and then at Izzy. “Can you guys please fix your shit?”

Izzy shrank away from his resentful glare.

“What shit? Nothing’s wrong,” Axl replied flatly.

“Izzy, again, what the fuck did you do to him?”

He flipped over and pulled a bit of the comforter over his head to avoid the question. Axl copied the motion, except on the floor with a pillow.

Chloe approached the deceptively unmoving lump on the bed and gave it a firm _whap_. The other guys observed in interest as it rolled over and spoke in a muffled tone. “I don’t know, okay? I kissed him! That’s all!”

“Could’ve put that one together,” Slash huffed, unyielding. “Did he _want_ you to?”

“I don’t know! I thought he did!”

Axl, having heard enough, rolled right under the bed. He wanted to tell Izzy it was fine, and have everything go back to the way it was half an hour ago, but for the second time he was faced with the burning desire to distance himself from the problem. And distance he did. It worked for a portion of the night: He wouldn’t say another word to any of them. He ignored Chloe’s worried face as she checked on him, barely noticed when Slash kindly slid a cold beer to him so he could drink without having to move, didn’t respond when Duff and Steven tried to coax him out by asking him to jam some more.

When everyone had washed their faces and climbed into bed- way too early for them, but there was no point at all in staying up longer when it wasn’t any fun anymore, was there- Axl, who was already somewhat sleepy as a result of not having anything to do while under the bed, exited his hiding place to to change and get ready to sleep. He dimmed the bathroom right a bit, almost shaking his head at the remaining mess of makeup that his slovenly friends had failed to clean. It made his heart hurt that he was getting to sleep at Izzy’s house and couldn’t even appreciate how fucking awesome that should’ve been because he’d fucked things up _again,_ and he had paused to reflect on this, in his boxer shorts, pulling an oversized, comfortable shirt over his head. Then Izzy walked in.

“Sorry! Sorry!” The door was almost shut before Axl even processed what was going on, so he could just as well blame that for the fact that he replied “No, come back,” instead of allowing the brunette to fuck off like he was clearly supposed to do.

The door inched open and Izzy hesitantly stepped in, most likely wondering if he had misheard and was about to get punched for having the nerve to approach him after their ill-fated prior encounter. But Axl jerked his head in confirmation, motioning him in.

“I’m sorry.” Izzy lowered his eyes, and it was obvious that his apology was no longer about stepping into the bathroom.

“Wasn’t your fault,” Axl mumbled, the words dragging out of his mouth almost painfully. “Wait a sec.”

Izzy made an effort not to ogle him as he finished changing.

They made their way back to the darkened bedroom. Duff, Steven, Slash, and Chloe were playing a half-assed game of Never Have I Ever. They politely retreated to the kitchen and living room when they saw the two sit down together.

Axl was intimidated, but in truth he wanted nothing more than for Izzy to hold him forever, so he lay down and curled close to him and nestled his face in his neck and put an arm around him, making a small contented noise when Izzy did the same. He pulled back after few minutes, though, to give Axl an intent look, nearly getting lost in the deep pools of blue-green that gazed back.

“Why’d you hide?”

Axl’s expression tightened. “Sorry. I get scared. Some stuff happened…” he removed his hand from Izzy’s shoulder blades to flap it around vaguely, “...to me. A long time ago.” 

All of a sudden Izzy was the one who wanted to go shut himself in the bathroom. Frigid, driving disconsolation washed over him. 

Axl must’ve picked up on it, because he tucked his arm back around Izzy’s side and whispered “It’s _okay,"_ and then his face tilted ever nearer and they both closed their eyes and melted into each other, and he found himself reveling in how soft Axl’s lips were, sinking unflinchingly into the starry feeling of his _soulmate’s_ body on top of his. Then he licked Axl’s lips and watched as he parted them, and Izzy afforded a second to shift Axl directly on top of him before continuing to explore his mouth, sucking his tongue, getting completely and utterly lost. He squirmed when Axl put a knee between his legs and broke the kiss for a moment to place bites across the sensitive skin of his neck. He started sliding his fingertips into the back of Axl’s boxers, glancing up for permission, gently gripping and squeezing his ass at the quick light touches running up and down his hips to say _yes._

Izzy’s breath hitched in surprise as he felt Axl getting hard through his boxers, so soon he was bringing his hand around to feel, to run his fingers through the trail of coarse hair below his midriff and then palm him, causing him to moan at the exact instant they heard low footsteps nearby in the hall.

Axl jumped. “Oh, shit.”

“Who cares,” Izzy breathed, kissing Axl’s collarbones to distract him and then flipping them both so that Axl was on his back with his red hair fanned across the pillow in a way that made him look like an angel, and Izzy was directly over him.

“Right.”


	13. Thirteen

Sunlight was streaming through the window when Axl woke up. He brought his hands up to rub his eyes, confused, before he realized he could barely move because he was wrapped tightly in a pair of pale arms.

Warmth surged through him as he reflected on the events of the night, how he’d whined Izzy’s name over and over as he was flung into a void of blinding ecstasy, and he automatically relaxed. Izzy grunted something unintelligible, his voice rough with sleep, and continued to spoon him.

There was not yet any sound from the rest of the apartment, so he guessed the rest of the guys weren’t up yet; a quick squint at the clock showed that it was 10:30. They were probably miffed about Axl and Izzy’s decision to hog the room, it wasn’t like the small couch or floor were the definition of a luxurious bed, especially for four people, but whatever. The experience he’d had was more than worth it.

He flinched, startled, when he felt kisses on the back of his neck.

Izzy giggled. “Good morning, babe.”

“Babe?” Axl quirked an eyebrow and kept his expression blank, watching Izzy’s face begin to fall before rolling his eyes and leaning in to press a reassuring kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I’m fuckin’ with you. Hi, sweets.”

Izzy scrunched up his face. “Too soon! You almost gave me a heart attack!”

“Fiiiiine. C’mon, let’s go rescue everyone and make some breakfast. They probably died having to sleep on your floor.”

However, it seemed that Izzy had other ideas about what they should do with their morning, because he said conspiratorially, “Or we could do that later,” and snuck one hand under the comforter to run it along the underside of Axl’s cock. 

_Oh, why didn’t I put my boxers back on last night?_ “You fucker.”

Izzy’s pleased smirk grew. He repeated the motion. “Like that?” He whispered slowly, his breath tickling Axl’s ear.

They didn’t make it out of his room for the next hour.

When they did, after they’d gotten dressed and Axl had frantically brushed out his wild hair so as not to clue the others in to their activities- which he realized was futile as soon as he saw the extent of the purplish love bites up and down his neck- they assessed what had gone on overnight. Duff had put several cushions in a line to create a makeshift bed, but it was tragically too short and his legs and feet lay on the hardwood. Chloe and Slash were lazing on the sofa, stacked on top of each other like sandwich ingredients. Steven had himself cocooned in a spare blanket.

Slash cracked an eye open and his victorious grin could have split his face in two. “You guys finally fucked, huh?”

“What?!” Axl retreated a step. They had, but damned if he was going to be shamed in front of his entire band without putting up some resistance.

His friend smugly and ruthlessly continued. “One, you kick us out for the whole night. Two, Steven said he heard one of you moaning like a girl when he went to put Izzy’s camera back. And anyway, I would’ve noticed those hickeys,” he raised a finger to point. Axl instinctively placed his hands over them.

He could feel the blood rushing to his face. “Keep that up and I won’t make any of you any breakfast!”

“Yeah, shut the fuck up,” Izzy agreed, yawning.

“Hey, Slash’s the only one who said anything!” Steven pointed out from his nest.

“I sure as shit don’t see you guys trying to stop him. Waffles or French toast?”

Everyone unanimously agreed on the French toast, so Axl left them there to hunt down the ingredients, taking Izzy with him for help.

“Help” included getting pinned against the fridge and making out for a lengthy amount of time. They were on the verge of taking it back to Izzy’s big, pretty canopy bed, but then they heard an alarming sizzling behind them and nobody wanted burnt food.

The day passed slowly, sweetly. Axl received several requests to cook another meal, apparently he had a knack for it, who would’ve known? The radio was on for most of the afternoon, resulting in a dance-off in which Duff attempted a grandiose slide across the living room floor, which would ordinarily have been fine, except he was wearing socks and the lack of friction caused him to wipe out and crush his face straight into the plaster of Izzy’s wall. Izzy sat with Axl, trying to copy his sirenlike singing voice at first, cackling when he was unable to, then settling into his own gravelly, melodic tenor.

The sun sank low in the sky, casting a shining but rather melancholic golden glow over all areas of the house. Chloe, with aid from the others, cajoled Axl into preparing a pizza, complete with dough made from scratch.

“How the fuck do you do that?”

He turned around to wipe the flour off his hands and grab a tiny container of cilantro. “Man, it’s just pizza. Can you grab those tomatoes for me?”

Slash looked thoroughly amused as he reached for the tomatoes. “Husband material, see? Izz here is definitely gonna be eating like a king.”

Axl picked up a dishrag and whipped him with it. Izzy pressed his own lips into a thin line to disguise the wide smile threatening to break out.

This didn’t get past Axl. “Fuck you both!”

“Actually, I think he’s the only one you’re going to be f-”

“I will kill you!” Axl charged at him and it turned into a fully fledged chase around the house, Slash hurtling himself over the couch and clearing it in one leap while Axl shot after him like a flaming bullet. Izzy didn’t even bother to follow, preferring to seek refuge in the hallway and sit there looking mightily put-upon for the remainder of the scuffle.

Chloe sat next to him, tracing patterns on his outstretched calf as she did so. “Isn’t this how group sex usually starts?”

“No, it’s not!” Izzy scooted away.

“Are you sure?” She flashed her best sexy face at him.

“SLASH! Will you come get your woman!”

“Hey, I was just kidding!” Chloe groused. “I like him better than any of you anyway.”

She was disgruntled when Slash made his appearance, totally out of breath from the wild pursuit. “Wha?”

“Listen. I don’t want to have a goddamn foursome, or fivesome, or six-some,” Izzy declared.

“Isn’t it just an orgy at that point?”

“Semantics,” he dismissed. “Point is, you’re the only one here who wants to fuck Chloe! The only one!”

Slash got the message and tugged her away while saying something in an entirely offended and chastising tone.

Axl, left to his own devices, had finished baking the pizza, which was giant and rectangular. It sat steaming on the counter, putting every one of them into an instant good mood.

“Ooh, Axl,” Chloe all but moaned.

For his own sanity, he ignored her. Slash teasingly pulled on a lock of her blonde hair before descending upon the piping hot pizza without an iota of caution.

“Wait! You’ll burn your-”

An agonized howl rattled the room.

“Mouth,” Axl finished, rolling his eyes. “You guys go get plates and stuff, chill out, I’ll be right there.”

It was fucking delectable. There was pepperoni and mozzarella cheese, and it had mushrooms on one portion of it, sausage on another, so they could select a piece with whatever topping they liked. Izzy and Axl affectionately fed each other small bites, much to the playful chagrin of Steven and Duff. Slash and Chloe wound up doing the same thing, so they were in no place to complain.

“Aww, you guys should date,” Izzy gestured devilishly at the blonds through a mouthful of pizza. They spluttered and leaped apart in abject horror. He cracked up.

Afterwards they all set up camp in Izzy’s room to kick off the more relaxing part of their night. Chloe excitedly brought up the idea of honey and oatmeal face masks. Axl, being all for DIY skincare, was entirely in favor of it. Duff, Steven, Izzy, and Slash were beyond disgusted.

“It’s good for your skin!” she insisted.

“Yeah? So is soap!” Slash retorted. “It’ll make my face all sticky. Gross.”

“Isn’t that something you’re used to?” The smirk in Axl’s voice was audible. 

“Fuck you, you’re the one with the boyfriend!”

Both he and Izzy blushed fiercely at the use of the term.

Before too long they ended up on his bed, curled up close under the comforter, Axl breathing hotly on Izzy’s neck, dotting little butterfly kisses. They’d mercilessly evicted the guys from the bed to where they were now lying on the plush rug, having fun but looking incredibly fed up with the antics of the new couple. “Boyfriend, huh?”

“Boyfriend. Soulmate. _Mine,_ ” Izzy murmured, running his thumb over Axl’s face. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to call you that?”

Axl just hmm’ed lovingly and closed his eyes.

“I thought you’d never like me.”

That caught his attention. His lashes brushed his skin ever so lightly as he looked back up into Izzy’s eyes. He found them enchanting. Tonight, it looked like there were flecks of amber gleaming in the hazel. “I do. You’re… everything about you is beautiful.”

“I was so wrecked that first night, when I went home and saw my clock. I couldn’t believe I’d met the person who was supposed to love me forever and he…” Izzy’s voice broke and he paused, eyes glistening with tears in the low light, but he held Axl’s gaze. “It was so hard to be around you at first. I felt so fucking _horrible._ ” This time he choked back a sob and tugged a fistful of Axl’s shirt closer to hide into.

Axl’s heart was being suffocated, slowly and achingly, in a vise grip of guilt. “I’m sorry. I should never have done that. I like you. I love spending time with you. I’m sorry.”

He threaded his fingers through the silky black hair close to him, brushing it soothingly over and over. Izzy cried harder into his shirt.

“Look at me.”

The grip on his shirt loosened. Eyes met his.

“Izzy, I adore you.”

He moved impossibly closer and tucked his face into his soulmate’s neck to muffle his next words. “Izzy, I love you.”

Near them, Slash arranged himself across Chloe’s lap and let her kiss his forehead and rub his shoulders. He’d never felt so taken with a girl in his life. He was bewitched by her sweetness, her ability to effortlessly make him laugh, and the way she still saw good in things. He couldn’t fathom what she saw in him, but he figured the Italian restaurant he’d taken her to the other day couldn’t have hurt. Still, he wondered with dread what would happen when the girl found her real soulmate.

“Chloe,” he breathed, half hoping she wouldn’t hear him.

She did. “Yes?”

He took hold of her pale wrist and glided his fingers across it without looking at the accursed numbers that were there. “Don’t leave me.” His words were low and harsh, sounding more angry and bitter than any type of sad, but it was the only way he could say it. She would understand.

“Don’t worry. I won’t.” Her voice was loaded with meaning. She knew exactly what he was talking about. 

Slash felt every negative thought in his mind disintegrate on the spot. “Thanks, Chloe.”

The room stilled as they all fell to sleep.


End file.
